Exile: Conversations
by krtshadow
Summary: Sequel to Exile's Return. Tim Drake, age 18, has returned from overseas where he has spent the last three years. Now he has a few people that he needs to talk to and a few things that he needs to make clear to his father. Complete.
1. Thoughts

Hey, I'm back. Those of you who read and liked my previous fic, Exile's Return, will be happy to know that I have decided to make a series out of the idea and have plans for at least three more fics after this one and possibly more. Anybody who hasn't read Exile's Return, you will definitely want to read that one first, since this current story will make absolutely no sense if you don't. This is story # 2. Please review. I would appreciate any ideas or comments that you may have. Suggestions on the story line are fine, although I may or may not use them. –krtshadow

Disclaimer: Not mine, all DC's, this fic is only intended for enjoyment and to show how much I love these characters and messing with their heads. 

Chapter One: Thoughts

I woke several hours later as the door to my room opened. It was still dark outside, and for a moment, I couldn't remember where I was. Under my pillow, I grasped my bo, ready to defend myself. Then I remembered where I was and cracked an eye open. Silhouetted in the slightly open door was Bruce, still in costume, with a robe over top. He looked at me for about thirty seconds and then silently shut the door and I relaxed again, opening my eyes all the way and staring up at the ceiling. Faint moonlight shone in through the window and cast strange shadows across the room. 

The confusion of the shadows reminded me of my life. One of my major problems was behind me now, that of discovering why the clan deserted me for three years. The reason was understandable, although it seemed to me that they could have at least let me know that there was a reason before letting me wonder about whether I was just a soldier, and not a family member as I had thought. But Bruce had made a decision that couldn't have been easy for him. I mentally thanked the teacher that had been willing to listen to my story and open my mind to the fact that there may have been reasons that I wasn't aware of. If it hadn't been for his encouragement, I'd have never gotten the courage to return. I was glad I had, since I'd been able to fall instantly back into the camaraderie of the clan. I wondered if they had thought about me, and if they'd expected me to react badly to their actions. 

If I still know the clan like I think I do, Alfred and Cassandra never doubted that I'd return and that everything would return to normal. Barbara likely kept her opinion to herself, but privately thought that I would return but ultimately consent to living the idle rich life that my father had pushed on me. Dick probably wavered between thinking that I'd never come back and that I'd come back furious at everyone for abandoning me. Bruce was a little more difficult to figure out. I think from the look in his eyes he had been expecting me to come around one of these days and hate him with a passion for having to make the decision that he did. 

It had probably surprised them all that I took the news of my father's ultimatum as calmly as I did, but I'd long had to learn to control my feelings and emotions when it came to him. He had done his best to grind the vigilante out of me, but I think that all of his effort only caused me to work harder and learn deviousness. The other driving reason behind my ceaseless study had been the hopes that Batman would take me back if I was good enough. I was only now able to really understand my own actions, since at the time, I would have sworn that I hated Bruce. Looking back, it was clearly defensive on my part, trying not to care so it wouldn't hurt so much. So, I poured my life and my dreams into becoming the best that I could be, all carefully shielded from my father, of course. I'd began with the desire to prove myself to Batman and the rest of the family, but somewhere along the way it changed to the desire to be the best that I could be. 

I found that I could be very good, if I wanted to be. Three years of study for a person as determined as I had been can do wonders, especially since I'd had very good background training as part of my work as Robin. Fate had worked with me, and through hard work and dealing with some very strange and demanding teachers, I'd become one of the better martial artists in the world. I wasn't the best, and had no desire to test my skills against others in order to pursue that title. I was just as happy if no one outside of my personal friends even knew that I was as good as I was. 

I grinned as I remembered the look on Dick's face after my talents had been revealed. I'd often imagined how it might have turned out, but nothing came to mind that was better than that look of total surprise and astonishment. Except maybe the look on Bruce's face when he realized that I wasn't holding any hard feelings. And Cass, man, she'd grown up. She was a beautiful woman, and I couldn't help wondering if she was involved with anybody. I mentally changed the subject, no use even thinking about that right now. 

Tomorrow, I needed to talk to Bruce. I also needed to decide what I was going to do about my Dad. It was tempting to just write him out of my life, but I felt that I should make an effort. I remembered the last communication that I'd had with him, a card that I received a week before my eighteenth birthday, congratulating my on my seventeenth. I'd been annoyed that he didn't even take the time to get the right year, until I realized that it would make my planned escape much easier. He wouldn't even be expecting any trouble from me for a whole year. I stifled a chuckle as I remembered how I'd took the passing examination the very next day and informed the headmaster that I was leaving, and that my father would not be notified of the fact by me for at least six months. He soon realized what I was implying and required a sizable chunk of my saved up allowances to buy his silence. As far as Dad knew I was still in school in Switzerland. The headmaster was likely pocketing the monthly payments as well, but I didn't care. It gave me freedom to finish my training in deep China, and plan my return to Gotham. 

My last teacher, Chung Mei, had taught me more than just the masking moves that I used on Cass, but a lot about myself, and how I affected the world. He'd been the one to totally convince me to be open to the idea that there could be a valid reason for the estrangement of my friends. He also told me that the bond between a father and a son was fragile even in the best of times. I could almost hear his voice, so calm and deep, "Do not be the one to cut the tie, for regrets mend nothing, and regret it you will later if you give him no chance. Face him as a man to a man and watch for what he means, not what he says. Then, if he still cares nothing, you can forget him knowing that you made every effort. Find a new father if it pleases you then, but do not throw the one you have out until you are certain that reconciliation is not possible." Master Mei had been a wise, wise man, and although it wouldn't be easy, I wanted to try. Maybe, we could at least hold a reasonable conversation without him treating me as a child and me punching him out for what he'd done to my life.

With that hopeful thought in mind, I relaxed back into my pillows and returned to my dreams. 

TBC…


	2. Secrets

Here's chapter two. Thanks for the reviews.

Chapter 2: Secrets

I awoke to sunlight streaming in my window and stiffness in my bones. I inspected my bruises as I headed for the bathroom. Yep, she really connected a couple of times. I was now the proud owner of no less than four large bruises. I felt a little better when I considered the fact that Cass might have a couple of her own this morning. I showered and shaved, since Alfred obviously kept all the guestrooms stocked with the essentials. Wrapping a towel around my waist I wandered into the bedroom again, realizing that it was only about 7:00. I poked my head out the door to see if anybody else was awake and then realized how stupid that was since there could be whole party going on in another part of the mansion and I'd never even hear it. I'd forgotten how huge this place was. Too many cramped hotels and dorm rooms for me. I happened to look down before I returned to my room and noticed my meager belongings piled neatly in the hall. Someone had made the trip to my hotel. Good, I needed some clothes.

I changed into comfortable jeans and a T-shirt. I strapped my bo sheath into the small of my back and pulled the loose shirt over top. A pair of well-used tennis shoes finished my preparations for the day. I carefully packed up all of my gear again. Regardless of what Alfred wanted, I wasn't planning on staying here. I didn't want to make any assumptions, and it was better that I stay on my own for now. 

I carried my stuff down the stairs to the main hall. I was moving quietly out of habit, but Alfred heard me and came out of nowhere to talk to me. "Good morning, Master Tim." I don't understand that man, I really don't. How do you wear a suit every day of your life? I think it would kill me. But I have to admit that I would be shocked to see Alfred in anything less than a perfectly pressed and impeccably clean black suit. 

"Morning, Alfred. And please, just Tim ok? I'm not master of anything." I allowed myself to be herded into the kitchen. Alfred somehow had blueberry pancakes waiting. I had to wonder if he had the whole manor wire tapped or something. That was the only way that I could figure out how he knows absolutely everything that goes on in this place. 

The pancakes were killer, and I ate hungrily. It had been quite a while since I'd had pancakes, though, so I felt slightly justified in my greediness. Alfred didn't say much, content to leave me to myself. I finished and shoved my plate back. "Thanks, Alfred, those were great."

"Master Bruce asked that I inform you that he's scheduled an appointment with him at the Wayne Industries Building at eleven thirty. Does that time work for you?" Alfred cleared my plate and then stood waiting for my answer. 

I wasn't sure what to say. It was rather presumptive of Bruce to 'schedule' an appointment, but that was Bruce, so I wasn't all that surprised. What I couldn't figure out was why the appointment was downtown and not here. Knowing Bruce, he probably had a reason. I was tempted to change the time just to assert my independence, but realized that that was rather childish. 

I didn't need to act independent, I was independent. I was honestly in a position to do whatever I wanted with my life. I realized this for the first time, sitting in Alfred's kitchen. For once in my life, I didn't have to hide what I was if I didn't want to. I didn't have to keep secrets or even obey my father. I could make my decisions based on the respect that I held for people, and my own desires and plans. It was a heady feeling, one of freedom. But I was also mature enough to realize that independence carries a huge weight of responsibility with it. I was independent, but that also meant that no one else would take the fall if I did something stupid.

I was jolted from my wandering thoughts by Alfred's voice. "Master Tim?"

I realized that I'd left him standing there. "Oh, sorry, Alfred, my mind was wandering. Please tell Bruce that I'll be there at 11:30."

"Very good. He also asked that you review file 19985 downstairs. I believe that Miss Gordon put it together to get you caught up on your old friends." Alfred looked pleased, and I wondered if it had been his suggestion. 

Good. But Alfred's comment brought another thought to my mind. "Dick hasn't married her yet? Are they still…" I searched my mind for the proper term. Nothing came to mind, and it wasn't like Alfred didn't know what I meant, so I left the sentence hanging. 

Alfred merely smiled at me and stated calmly. "Yes, they are still. No, they are not married. Now, no more gossiping, I believe you still know the way downstairs." He returned to his work, bustling around the kitchen. Probably making breakfast for Bruce, for whenever he woke up. 

I mentally shrugged and headed for the grandfather clock. The correct movement of the hands came to me as if it had just been yesterday that I had entered the cave through this very doorway to notify Bruce that my father had found me out. I stopped on the brink of the stairs and remembered the horrible feeling of not finding him and knowing that I had to go home and deal with Dad without Bruce's advice. No one had been in the cave, and even the manor was empty. I'd felt so alone.

I shook my head, clearing those thoughts from my mind. What was done was done. I continued down the steps to the cave. I instantly noticed that the case holding my R shaped throwing star was nowhere in sight. Rather than try to figure out what that may or may not mean, I proceeded to the computer and quickly located file 19985. 

I grinned as the computer accessed the file, and immediately sent off a coded message to somebody. I assumed that Oracle wanted to know whether or not I'd read her message. It was very interesting, catching up on everything that I'd missed. I really appreciated Oracle's effort. 

Young Justice had dissolved soon after I disappeared. Superboy, Impulse, and Wonder Girl were now with the Titans, who had also went through a major rehaul. Troia had returned to Paradise Island, Tempest visited occasionally but seemed to be more concerned with Atlantis, and Jessie Quick and Argent had taken cities of their own. Arsenal still lived at Titan's tower, and occasionally worked with the current team. Slobo had returned to the stars, and Secret was… no. 

Secret was dead. A very annoying part of my mind questioned whether or not a ghost could die, but I pushed that inane thought out of my mind. I leaned forward in my chair as I read the details from the screen in front of me. About a year ago, Secret slowly began losing control of her hold over the Abyss. She would lose consciousness and envelop people when she didn't even know what she was doing. There were no fatalities, but a lot of very frightened people and a lot of very concerned superheroes. Finally, she had quietly sent herself to the abyss, something that I didn't even know that she could do. The official story was suicide and I cringed away from the harsh word. 

Oracle had added a footnote. -Tim, I thought you might want to know that STAR labs only gave her about three months to live, and most of that time she would be unconscious and a danger to those around her. Technically, she took her own life, but she did it for those around her. Sorry I had to be the bearer of bad news, but since she was always rather behind the scenes the news never got a hold of it. I'm sorry. Babs-

I wiped the moisture from my eyes, leaned back in my chair and stared at the vaulted cave ceiling above me. Suzie had been a friend, and a good one. I'd miss getting a chance to see her again. Still, I understood why she did what she did. It would be one thing to be paralyzed or brain dead, but another thing altogether if I would be a danger to those that I love and respect. I think that I would do the same thing, given her options. I hoped she was happy, wherever she was now. 

I don't know how long I sat and thought of old times, but finally I returned to the files in front of me. The rest of the information was about my school friends and most of it I had already researched myself. I skimmed the rest of the file and exited it. 

Not five seconds later, Barbara's face popped onto the monitor. I raised an eyebrow quizzically at her. She must have had yet another program notify her as soon as I was finished with the file. Impressive. I wondered if Bruce knew how much control she had over his system. Probably, knowing him. "Sorry to interrupt, Tim."

"Don't be, I had just finished. What can I do for you?" I leaned back in the chair, surreptitiously checking my watch as I tucked my hands behind my head. I still had about an hour and a half before my appointment with Bruce. 

Barbara looked rather uncomfortable. "Well, you read what I sent you about your friends, right?" At my nod, she continued. "I'm sorry about Secret." Her voice trailed off as she searched for something to say. 

"I'm ok, if that's what you're asking. Yeah, it was a shock, but from your note I gathered that she went easily." I almost choked on the last word as my throat clogged up again. Dang. I didn't want to get all emotional in front of her.

Barbara tactfully ignored my watering eyes and changed the subject. "Umm, I don't suppose you noticed that I left someone out, did you?" 

Grateful for the subject change, I pondered for about ten seconds before I realized who had been missing from the file. "Steph." Now that I thought about it, I hadn't seen her and no one had mentioned her last night.

Barbara grimaced. "Well, I thought that I should probably tell you in person…"

TBC…


	3. She Did What?

Chapter 3 is here! Thanks for the encouraging reviews. Please keep them coming… -krtshadow 

Chapter 3: She Did What??

My brain kicked into high gear. If she'd told me about Secret's death in the file, but didn't want to tell me something about Steph, then it must be pretty serious. My mind began running though a multitude of possibilities, ranging from death in the line of duty to turning villain. Barbara must have gathered the gist of my thoughts from the look on my face, because she hurried to clarify her statement. "Oh, gosh, nothing bad, or really bad anyway. It's just kind of complicated…"

"I can do complicated. Just tell me."

"Well, I wanted to tell you personally because none of the others will. It is NOT something you want to bring up to Bruce, ok?" Now I was getting really curious. "I'm really hoping that you haven't been languishing in love for her." Barbara looked at me with a slightly hopeful look on her face. It was no big secret that Babs and Steph hadn't gotten along all that well, but I couldn't figure out why that would effect anything, or why Barbara felt like she had to reassure herself that I wasn't still in love with Stephanie. Not that it was any of her business whether I was or wasn't. I locked my face down and stared at her until she got the hint that I wasn't sharing information until it was mutual. "Well, I guess that's really none of my business. But, since you won't fill me in, I'm not going to pull any punches."

I broke in with a grin. "Honestly, do you ever pull any punches?" 

She got a little smirk on her face and answered. "I can not confirm or deny. Now do you want to hear this or not?"

"Yeah, go on."

"Stephanie waited about four weeks after you left and demanded that Bruce give her the Robin role." My jaw dropped. I snapped it shut as Babs continued. "He told her no. Did the usual Bruce thing and didn't tell any of us about it. I don't really know if he gave her a reason for the refusal but she thought that he thought that she wasn't good enough and it made her mad." Barbara's voice had sped up, it was obvious that she wanted to get this over with. "I guess that she thought that if she proved herself, that he'd let her take your job. Anyway, she took one of your costumes and refitted it to her and started acting on her own."

I winced, that would be one way to get Bruce mad in a hurry. If she'd just struck out on her own, that might have been ok, but to take the Robin name without permission… I was beginning to feel rather glad that I had been half way around the world at the time. "Let me make a wild guess that the Boss was not very happy at that."

Barbara grinned at me. "That would be an understatement of the first order. He totally went Bat on her, bawled her up, down, and sideways, and we haven't seen her in costume since. I don't really know if he made her quit or if she gave it up out of anger or what, but she's living in Metropolis with her mom now. Bruce is in the process of paying her college tuition, although she still doesn't know who he really is. Anyway, I can get the phone number if you really want it…" Her voice trailed off into silence. The look on her face clearly communicated that she thought that I was an idiot if I wanted to get involved with Steph again. 

I wasn't interested anymore, and any interest that had still lingered had disappeared at the revelation that she'd tried that blatantly to replace me in the clan. I'd actually kind of hoped that she wasn't waiting for me, because I really didn't want to have to deal explaining to her that I wasn't in love with her anymore. Still, it was funny to see Barbara worried about my relationships already, when I hadn't been back even two days yet. Considering that it was really none of Barbara's business in the first place, I felt justified in yanking her chain a little. I assumed a slightly insecure look and asked, "Uh, you don't happen to know if she's… seeing anyone… in that way?" 

The look on Barbara's face was priceless, and I knew the answer before the slightly panicked look was off her face. "Umm, Tim, I'm sorry, but, yeah."

"So I don't have to worry about her chasing me down and demanding that we resume where we left off?" I let a smile creep across my face. "Good. Saves me the hassle of finding 'that special someone else' to present to her."

Barbara took about three seconds to compute the meaning of my words and then she started laughing. "Oh my gosh, that was so Bruce. You really had me worried. Someone else. Ha."

"So anyway, to answer your previous question, I have not been languishing in love for anyone, much less Steph." I leaned forward in my chair. "Any other problems, disasters, catastrophes, or weird things you want to tell me about?"

"Oh, maybe. But not now and it isn't bad, so you'll just have to wait. Anyway, I'd better get back to work."

I reined in my curiosity about what she was referring to. As long as it wasn't bad, I could wait. A little while anyway. But I couldn't resist adding one more thing to the conversation. "She really tried to take Robin?"

"Yep. And let me tell you this, and I don't really know this for a fact, it's basically just my own conjecture, but we think that even if she had been good enough for the job, Bruce still wouldn't have given it to her. It was 'your' job."

I gave her a skeptical look. That seemed a little far-fetched. Yeah, I had been Robin, and yeah, I had been pretty good at it, in hindsight, but I'd never thought of my self as the only person for the job. In many ways I was surprised by the fact that Bruce hadn't taken Steph up on the offer. She could have been trained further, and Gotham still needed as many people as Bruce could field. I shook my head. "I don't think…"

Babs interrupted me with a stubborn look on her face. "Dick agrees with me, and who knows Bruce better than he does? Anyway, like I said, no proof on that one, but…" here she paused as if deciding whether or not she would be saying too much if she continued. She must have thought that she would be, because she sighed and didn't finish her original sentence. "Just keep in touch, ok? Disappear again, and I will find you and tell Cass to beat you down. Goodbye." 

"Um, bye, Babs." I watched as the screen faded to black. I wonder what the heck that was all about. I was just beginning to run over possibilities of what she had been going to say, but then I glanced at my watch. I sprung out of my chair with a muffled curse. I had about twenty five minutes to get downtown, or I'd be late, and you don't leave Bruce Wayne, or his other persona, waiting. I headed for the cave exit at a fast jog, finding my bike right where I had hidden it the night before. Time for a meeting with the big guy himself. 

TBC…


	4. The Man Upstairs

Well, sorry this is so short, but more is on the way, I promise!! -krtshadow

Chapter 4: The Man Upstairs

The Wayne Industries office complex occupied an entire downtown skyscraper, filled with hundreds of people busily taking care of Bruce's business. I parked my motorcycle in the parking garage and headed over the walkway over the street to the front entrance. The lobby was teeming with people in business suits, carrying briefcases and talking urgently into cell phones. I maneuvered my way through the crowd until I reached the elevator. I joined a small group of people boarding the elevator and moved to the back of the car. I was definitely going to be the last one off. Bruce's offices occupied the top floor, and not just anybody went up there. I listened with interest to the chatter of the people around me, who were chatting about things that I knew nothing about. One man was complaining about the current discount rates, another was praising the FDIC for a rate change and yet another was arguing with two or three others about a bill that was up for vote in the Senate. 

The car stopped occasionally to let people off, and soon there were only about four other people in the car, all looking very important. I stood out like a sore thumb, dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and my leather jacket. One man in particular kept shooting me strange glances. I ignored them and continued to gaze into space. As three more floors passed, he finally reached the point where he was quite sure that I didn't belong. "Excuse me, these floors are mostly administrative offices. If you tell me where you're going, I'll be happy to help you find the right floor." The tone of his voice implied that it was about thirty stories down. 

I glanced at him and wondered if I'd been dressed up in a business suit if he's have said anything. Probably not. "Actually, I know exactly what floor I'm headed to. But I appreciate your offer."

The man was clearly skeptical. I didn't feel the need to elaborate, but he kept on pushing, as two of the other men left the elevator at the 48th floor. "I'm sorry, but you must be mistaken. I work with Mr. Fox on the next floor, and I'm quite sure that there was no appointments scheduled for this time slot."

"My appointment is with Mr. Wayne." That managed to shut him up, and he left the car hurriedly at the next stop. I pushed the button for the fiftieth floor and leaned my head against the wall. I really didn't know what I was going to talk to Bruce about, other than my father. I felt a little uncomfortable talking too much about that situation until I got a chance to actually confront Dad. Other than that I couldn't imagine what Bruce wanted to talk about, and I also couldn't understand why I had to come downtown for this. In my opinion, a chat in the cave or even the manor would have suited just fine.

The car stopped and the door slid open. The secretary looked up and asked, "Tim Drake?" I nodded my assent and she stood and walked towards a heavy oak door. "Right this way, please. Mr. Wayne asked that you be shown right in." I followed her through the doors.

Bruce's office could only be described as palatial. Full-length windows hung with heavy drapes surrounded the huge office. A bedroom and bath were attached, and the carpet was of the type found in hotels that surpassed even the five star rating. In the center of the office was a monstrous oak desk. Small trees, valuable paintings and strange sculptures were cleverly placed around the room, adding to the ambiance that simply shouted "OH Yeah, I'm Rich"

As amazing as all this was, what instantly caught my attention was Bruce. He looked like he was concentrating very hard. In his hand he held a putter and at his feet were about fifteen golf balls. He had a putting green mat down and he was aiming his balls at a Wayne Industries coffee mug turned on his side. Golf balls littered the entire area and as the secretary and I paused in the doorway, he stroked the club, sending a ball about four feet past the mug and as many feet wide. I noticed that there were no golf balls actually in the mug. I had to exert a lot of self control to keep from chuckling. But I couldn't laugh, the secretary wouldn't understand why I thought it was funny that Bruce missed the putt. I couldn't tell her that this was the same man who could throw a batarang and hit a quarter inch target ninety-nine times out of a hundred. And that the one time that he missed it would likely be only a hair's width away. 

The secretary politely cleared her throat and announced, "Sorry to bother you, Mr. Wayne, but you asked that Mr. Drake be shown right in."

Bruce turned and gave me a huge grin. "Tim! So glad you could make it. Come right in. Thank you, Sandra." He walked forward, shaking my hand fervently. Freaky, to say the least. 

"You're welcome, sir. Can I get you gentlemen anything to drink?"

Since I was feeling slightly uncomfortable with the smile on Bruce's face, I shook my head and thanked her. I didn't particularly relish the idea of having to deal with Bruce the playboy anymore than absolutely necessary. It was just too strange.

The second the secretary left the room and closed the door behind her, Bruce lost his grin and straightened to his full height. He moved toward the desk and motioned me to have a seat in front as he sat in the high-backed executive chair behind. "Thank you for coming, Tim. As you know, we have a few things to discuss."

I was amazed at my own reaction to him. Three years ago, I'd considered this man part father, part sensei, and part leader. As such I'd had so much awe that I had had a hard time dealing with him. I'd always felt very insecure and nervous when we'd talked then. It was different now. I was an adult, and while I still held the man in the highest regard, my reaction to him had changed. He didn't really frighten me anymore, although I still considered him the most dangerous man in the world. I sat and actually relaxed into the very comfortable chair. "Yes, although I'm not exactly sure what they all are yet. Also, why this had to be done here."

He answered my questioning glance. "The cave is almost constantly inhabited. Some of the things I need to tell you and that you need to tell me should be kept totally private, unless you want to share them."

Well, now my curiosity was peaked. "The walls have ears, in other words. So, what's the first topic?"

"Jack Drake."

Ouch.

TBC…


	5. Conversation

Chapter five is here! Only one more to go, and I can move on to happier topics. I know that this particular plot devise has been done before, and by better writers than me, but it should be different enough to still be interesting. I'm sorry for the constant cliff hangers (According to some of my reviewers, it's pretty bad… opps. Sorry, guys…) I'm already working on Exile 3, and I'm trying to do better, really!! Honestly!! Anyway, read, enjoy, and send me your comments, problems, ideas, reviews, mistakes… you get the picture. I should probably mention that there is Jack Drake bashing ahead. You have been warned… Thanks, krtshadow

Disclaimer in chapter one, I'll summarize. Not mine, no money.

Chapter 5: Conversation

Bruce sat back in his chair, watching me with keen eyes. I had no doubt that my every word, movement and facial expression was being noted and catalogued inside his head. I didn't even bother trying to figure out what he was thinking, it wouldn't have been worth my time. Knowing him, if he thought that I was trying to read him, he'd show fake signs just to throw me off. 

I took a deep breath. "What exactly do I need to know?" 

"Your father doesn't know that you are back in town?" Bruce clearly wanted some background information about me and my past three years, but he was trying to avoid asking pointblank. Which was rather unusual, considering. But I wasn't going to argue.

"My father doesn't even know I'm back in the country. He should still think that I'm in Switzerland. Hopefully, anyway." I really doubted that Dad knew anything about me other than the periodic reports from the bodyguard that he'd hired for me. The same bodyguard that had been in my employ since three months after we got to Switzerland. He would still be sending reports about my escapades and which young social butterfly I was currently wining and dining. 

"I thought that you were in Switzerland myself, so I doubt that he suspects." Now that was surprising. I hadn't been in Switzerland for almost nine months. Before I could comment on that remark, he continued. "You are aware that Dana is expecting?" I nodded and he continued. "Your father has been slipping into alcoholism ever since you were sent away." By the look in Bruce's eyes I could tell that he was fishing for something, I just wasn't sure what yet.

I interrupted, "Not just since I left, he started drinking soon after Mom died. It cleared up a little right after he married Dana, but not for long."

"Oh?" That had obviously not been what he was looking for.

"Look, Bruce, if you have something you want to ask me, go ahead. I'll answer if I can." I was getting tired of beating around the bush. I'd been gone three years and I wasn't as familiar with his nonverbal cues as I had been. I really had no idea what he was trying to get at.

For a split second, Bruce looked surprised at my openness. Then he took a deep breath and asked, "Tim, did he abuse you?"

Oh, that. He had to ask the one question that I didn't really want to answer. Bruce waited patiently as I thought. I didn't like the question, but Bruce deserved some kind of answer. "I don't really know how to answer that." Bruce cocked a suspicious eyebrow at me. "It depends on how you look at it. Did he hit me? Yeah. Hard? Occasionally. Often? Not really." I looked up and met Bruce's eyes. They were filled with barely contained fury. "I was able to stay out of his way most of the time."

Bruce glared at me. "How long?" 

I shrugged, this conversation was getting very personal, and I didn't really like it. Still, my only option besides being open was shutting Bruce out and I didn't want to do that. Not to him. "Never until my mom died, pretty bad there for awhile, and then he married Dana, and I was in Brentwood. I wasn't even home very much, so that cut things down a lot. Honestly, Bruce, it's not as bad as you're imagining. I only remember a few times that he actually connected hard enough to bruise." I let out an amused sigh. "All those little tricks you taught me about how to avoid getting tagged helped. It's not hard to stay out of range of a guy in a wheelchair." Bruce still looked furious, and I wasn't sure who he was angrier with, Dad for hitting me or me for not telling him about it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He was still glaring at me, and I was beginning to get tired of it. 

"What did you think that I would say, Bruce? Umm, sir, my dad hits me about once every six months, which translates into about every other time he sees me." I shrugged. "I'm a pretty personal person. It wasn't so bad I couldn't handle it, like I said, I was able to keep out of his way when he was in a mood like that. It just never came up." If I thought about it honestly, I knew that part of the reason I didn't want to tell anyone was that it would just reinforce what I already knew. My father didn't love me, want me or care about me in any way. It wasn't something I even liked admitting to myself, much less telling anybody else about.

Bruce isn't stupid, he probably realized the same thing. Anyway, he stopped glaring at me. Mostly. "You should have told me."

"No, I don't think so." I held up a hand to stem his arguments, to my surprise, it actually held him off for a second. Which was enough time to get my words in. "There was nothing you could do. If it had gotten out of hand I would have approached someone about it. Like I said it wasn't often, it wasn't serious, and it's over now. Please just forget about it, ok?"

Bruce clearly wasn't happy about it, but I knew that with his command of reading nonverbal cues, he could tell that I was being honest with him. If he asked, I wouldn't lie and say that it didn't bother me, but I had had three years to deal with the facts of my life. Namely, my dad swayed between tolerating me and hating me for being both what he could never be and as a memory of my mother. Finding out that I had a whole other life, one that I'd been hiding from him, had just pushed him over the edge that last night. I knew, the way that you get to know people after you've spent years with them, that if Bruce really thought that my father had either physically or psychologically damaged me Dad would be receiving a visit from a very angry man. I couldn't say that it had done me any good, but I'd worked through it and hopefully had worked past it.

A sudden thought made me sit up and hit Bruce with a glare of my own. "How did you know about all this?" I rose half way from my seat, barely containing my anger. "He hasn't hurt Dana, has he?" If he had, I swear I'll…

Bruce waved a hand at me, interrupting my mental tirade. "No, not as far as I know. I put it together after you were gone, just a number of things that caught my attention."

I felt slightly better knowing that Bruce didn't think that Dad was giving Dana the same treatment that he'd given me. Now that I thought it through, I doubted that Dana would stand for that anyway. She did not have the kind of personality to just let that happen. I would venture a guess that if Dad ever raised a hand against her, she might hit back. And she would definitely leave him. I was curious about what had perked Bruce's detective senses about the situation. I'd been very careful to keep the full extent of my relationship with my father from him, and since Dad's blows didn't even usually leave a bruise, it had been relatively easy to do. Or so I'd thought. "What exactly caught your attention? I was gone…"

Bruce's face tightened. "He took a swing at me, that time he contacted me."

I almost choked. "He took a swing at you?" Well, I sure hope I didn't inherit my brain from the paternal side of the family. Heh. I didn't even waste my time asking if he'd connected or not. "While you were B… umm, you know who?" Bruce said nothing but I could have sworn that I heard a faint growl. Which I took to mean 'change the subject, now'. So I did, biting back my chuckle. "Which reminds me, I'm going to stop by later today, does he know your identity?"

"No."

That doesn't surprise me. If he'd known it, he'd have probably told the world. "Ok, then. What else do we need to discuss then?" I wondered if Bruce was going to ask any more personal questions. I couldn't imagine what else that he would want to know, but knowing him… he could say anything.

"Your father has also been fighting depression. He's on several medications, several of which could possibly react badly with the alcohol that he's imbibing. He…" I was treated to the rare sight of Bruce searching for words. "I've been keeping an eye on him." No big surprise there. "I don't think he's going to respond favorably to you." Ditto. "He is at home this afternoon."

"I hadn't really been expecting the prodigal son kind of welcome." I rose from my seat. "Thanks for the information, Bruce."

"Tim, what are your plans?" Bruce was watching me with those cold blue eyes of his, and this time I know he was watching for anything that I might communicate non-verbally. 

Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to tell him, verbal or no. I looked down at the floor for a minute. "I really don't know yet." I raised my head and looked him in the eyes. "You'll be the first to know." That was the best I could do.

"Good." Bruce had a funny look on his face as I turned to leave. It almost looked like relief, but that didn't make any sense at all. Oh well, with him, some things were better left not figured out.

I walked out of the office, doing my best to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming meeting with my father. I didn't really know what to say to him, and every time I tried to figure out how to handle the matter I came up with a different way that he might react. The only thing that I could do was play it by ear, and procrastinating about it wasn't going to make the duty any sweeter. 

TBC… in the final chapter. 


	6. Confrontation

Ok. I started to write the last chapter of this fic and it grew. It grew so much that I had to make a whole 'nother chapter for it. I'm sorry, really. It just went and got complicated on me. Anyway, just so you don't get mad at me, I promise to get the very last chapter up tomorrow. I just need to proof read it. I hope you all enjoy the way this turns out. It wasn't exactly the easiest scene to write… Let me know what you think. -krtshadow 

Disclaimer in Chapter 1

Chapter 6: Confrontation

Even though it was now past lunchtime, I was not in the least bit hungry. To be honest, I was now so concerned about my upcoming confrontation with my father that the very thought of delaying it any longer than necessary turned my stomach. I needed to get this over with so I could continue my life. I needed to be able to put my childhood behind me, and I wouldn't be able to accomplish this until I'd had a few words with my father. I kicked my bike into action and headed back towards the outskirts of town. 

As Gotham streamed by me, flashes of memory from a fifteen-year-old mind assaulted me. There was the theater that I'd taken Adriana to several times. I had to wait for a light at Fourteenth and took a second to look up toward the old Cathedral, gothic gargoyles still occupying the ledge surrounding the roof. I grinned slightly at the sight. I could remember perching up on those things more times than I could count. Mostly with Bruce, but occasionally with Dick and even once with Cass, I had crouched high above the city, watching and waiting for the next crisis to erupt. Just sitting there, waiting for the next call.

Suddenly an idea occurred to me. Making a quick lane change I pulled into the parking lot of one of the department stores that abounded in this area of town. The store was crowded, but I quickly found what I wanted and purchased it. Then I resumed my journey to the Drake Estates. I soon entered the upper class residential area, and passed on through to where the truly wealthy made their homes. 

The road that led to the front entrances of both the Drake and Wayne family mansions was wide and shaded by huge oak trees and manicured lawns lined each side. I pulled into the Drake circular drive, resisting the momentary impulse to just head back to the cave and skip the whole deal altogether. I stopped my cycle before the front door and closed my eyes for a second. This was going to be very tough. 

I turned off the bike and kicked the stand down. Walking slowly, I climbed the steps that led to the massive front door. I had actually hardly ever used this entrance, even when I'd been living here, because it was so out of the way from all of the things that I needed. I had usually left via the garage, or, in many cases, my second story window. Heh. Those were the days. I wondered, not for the first time, how I'd gotten away with living two lives for as long as I had. I doubted that Bruce or Dick ever really understood what a drain it was on me to have to hide always. They at least had places that they could totally relax and be not the image, not the mask, but just really who they were. I will admit that Bruce didn't avail himself of that option much, but he at least had the choice. Dick was himself almost all of the time, and even sometimes when he was in the mask. I had had no place to relax. I think that maybe that had been what had caused me to make that slip that day.

I realized that I'd been standing in front of the closed door for several minutes. Ok, Timothy Drake, no more procrastinating. Here goes nothing.

I rang the bell, doing my best to calm my nerves. I think that if someone had walked up behind me and yelled, "Boo!" right then, I'd have very likely killed them before I even knew it. Well, maybe not killed, but let's just say that they'd have got the scare of their life. 

After which, I'd have probably passed out.

Luckily enough, nothing of the sort happened, and the door was opened by a cheerful older lady whom I recognized immediately. She gasped at the sight of me and looked as if she would faint. I wanted to jump forward and grab her arm so that she wouldn't fall, but since it was the sight of me that had caused this reaction, I restrained myself. "Mrs. Mac. Are you ok?"

"Timothy? Oh glory be. It is really you. What in the world are you doing here?"

I took a breath. "Well, I'd like to speak to my father."

"Oh of course, right this way." She lead me into the hall and sputtered for a second before addressing me again. "He's in the study, sir. Do you want me to announce you?"

Not another person calling me sir. I ignored the impulse to correct her and replied calmly. "No, thanks. I'll just show myself in."

Mrs. Mac backed out of sight, muttering under her breath. "Oh dear, this doesn't look good at all. Oh dear." 

I would have smiled at her but by now the only thing that I wanted to do was get this over with. This was harder than facing the family last night in the cave, and more nerve wracking than facing Bruce this morning. I walked slowly to the study door, which was closed. Stopping there, I controlled my breathing and reoriented my thoughts. I wasn't really expecting this to go well, but I had some things that needed saying and they were darn well going to get said today. I finally achieved a somewhat stable mental state and opened the door.

My father sat behind the desk, shuffling through a huge stack of papers. Out of habit, I scanned the room, making sure that no one else was there. The room was otherwise empty, but I immediately noticed a half full shot glass on the desk by his right elbow. I spent half a second looking at him. He had aged, gray was liberally streaked through his hair, and his face was wrinkled in a perpetual frown. Without looking up, he barked. "What is it, Mrs. Macllvane?"

"I'm not Mrs. Macllvane." Obviously.

That had the not unexpected result of him jerking his head up and meeting my eyes. For the first time in three years, I looked straight at the face of my father.

He shook his head and passed a hand in front of his eyes, obviously disbelieving his senses. When that didn't disperse the image of me standing in the doorway staring at him, he realized who I was. I could literally see the look on his face change from surprise to anger. "Timothy Drake. What in heck are you doing here? Dang you. You ran away from school. Have you no respect?"

I cut off what was beginning to look like a lecture on the errors of my ways. "I finished school." I couldn't bring myself to call him 'Dad.' I wanted to say more, but my words were cut off.

"Ridiculous, you're not old enough." He turned towards the phone, cursing me and the school and anyone else that he could think to blame. 

Before he could pick up the receiver I interrupted his tirade. "I'm eighteen and a legal adult, and I finished school with honors, in case you care." Which I was pretty sure that he didn't but I felt justified in bragging a little. Just in case. "Maybe you need to check my birth certificate?"

My sarcasm went right over his head. He turned to look at me again and sputtered. "You can't be eighteen."

"Almost nineteen, actually." A couple of months, actually, but that counted as almost. At least in my opinion. "I haven't been at school for nine months."

That caught his attention. "Where were you?" He glared at me like he thought that I had probably spent the time in prison or something.

If he'd have shown anything to make me think that he was happy to see him, I might have been a little more polite. But he was the one that was making this an interrogation, and since he started it, I didn't feel compelled to be all that nice. Which meant that I was going to tell him the truth, or at least part of it, since that would be the absolute last thing that he would want to hear. "China." I also wasn't going to answer anything that he didn't directly ask. Childish, maybe, but I felt that he needed to be the one to make the first friendly move. If he never did, then fine, but as the instigator of at least eighty percent of all the problems between us, he needed to realize that I was talking to him now on an equal level. 

"CHINA???" Whew, for a guy in his fifties, he sure still had good lungs. I resisted the urge to rub my ears and continued to watch my father, not letting any emotion cross my face. "What the heck were you doing in China?"

"I was in the process of furthering my studies in preparation for returning to Gotham." Among other things, but no use confusing him any more than necessary. And the statement 'returning to Gotham' pretty much sums it all up.

My father looked utterly baffled and I have to admit that I didn't feel at all sorry for him. If he'd have even wrote me once while I was overseas, or came to visit me any one of the six times that he'd been overseas himself, I would have been happy to tell him at least the basics of what I was doing. I would have been overjoyed, too, but that wasn't really relevant, since it had never happened. 

Dad finally spoke. "Well, you are going back to college overseas immediately. I don't know how you managed to fool me about your eighteenth birthday, but it won't matter. I was planning on enrolling you in Hamburg College in Germany. I'll have to call in a few favors…" His voice muttered off into grumbles as he once again reached for the phone.

"I don't think you are understanding me. I am not going to be going back overseas. I'm staying in Gotham. All I wanted to do was see how you and Dana are doing." That's certainly all that I wanted to do, but my expectations of the results of the visit were definitely different. Honestly, I really didn't know if I was really staying in Gotham or not, but it was a distinct possibility. Whether or not I was staying or not really didn't matter at this point. My father would definitely not care for the idea. I was mentally counting the seconds until the explosion.

Three, two, one…

"YOU ARE NOT STAYING IN GOTHAM! I forbid it. I won't have you here where those blasted costume wearing idiots can try to subvert you into illegal activities." He then went off on a tirade, cursing me, Batman, Gotham, and anybody else that he could think of with a vocabulary that would embarrass a sailor.

I stood there for several minutes, just taking it. Finally, after one particularly crude remark, I mentally waved goodbye to my control of my temper and allowed my face to show the anger that I was feeling. Dear old dad took one look at my rapidly darkening face and paused in his rant for a split second. Maybe, just maybe, the fact that I could be considered a dangerous man was sinking in. I'd even settle for him considering me a competent adult. 

Fat chance. His voice was full of anger as he slammed a fist down on the desk. "You will leave this city immediately or I will immediately go to the authorities with what I know about you. You will be happy enough to leave after your secrets are out. You will certainly never be able to… to… wear one of those awful masks." Dad settled back into his wheelchair, with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. He obviously thought that this ultimatum would reduce me to the obedient son that he thought that I should be.

"Wrong." I managed to control my temper just enough to let the word come out smooth and even. This particular gambit of my father's had been somewhat expected, and unfortunately for him, I had a perfect counter argument. Heh.

TBC…


	7. Threats

Finally, the last chapter of Conversations. I am still planning on making a series out of this premise, and I will be getting the next installment up in a couple of weeks. Thank you to everyone who had reviewed and feel free to comment on this story, the series, or even what you think I should do with Tim in the future. Enjoy… -krtshadow

Chapter 7: Threats

The look of smug satisfaction slipped away and my father leaned forward in shock. "What?" He obviously couldn't figure out why the threat of his revealing my identity wasn't worrying me. I realized in that moment, that he had very likely been preparing for this meeting, in his own way, for as long as I had. That threat must have been the foundation of his entire argument. 

I leaned forward a little myself. "I said, wrong." He started to sputter and I coldly interrupted. "The are two reasons why it won't work. First, if you go spill what you know about me, you're going have a real hard time proving it. Nobody but you ever saw me in costume, and if you suddenly start accusing me of something as ridiculous as being a vigilante…" I gave him a sarcastic smile. "…the common gossip will be that you are either losing your mind or trying to set me up so that you can disinherit me in favor of your new son or daughter. Basically, no one would ever believe it." My father looked like he had been hit between the eyes with an axe. I continued to press my advantage. "Second, even if you get anyone to believe you, it still won't work." I let a bitter smile cross my face. "If your big mouth threatens me…"

Jack sat straight up in his chair. "Don't you DARE threaten me!"

"So, it's ok for you to threaten me, but not vice versa, huh? You didn't let me finish. If your big mouth threatens me and what I choose to do with my life, Timothy Drake will have an unfortunate accident, no body discovered of course, and you'll never see me again." His jaw dropped. I was dead serious, though. If he rendered the identity of Tim Drake, heir to millions and all around wild child, unusable, I'd just have to come up with something else. "So, if that's what you want, there's the phone, I'm sure that you can find some news rag to buy the story, 'My Son Was The Boy Wonder.' Go ahead." 

I actually did care if he spilled the story since somebody smarter than he was might be able to figure out the rest of the clan's identities if they had one of them. Not to mention the fact that the Drake family would be in danger from those many people that had a grudge against Robin. However, I was gambling that Dad wouldn't want to risk even the chance of becoming a laughingstock over the whole matter.

My deduction seemed to be holding water as I watched my father lean back into his wheelchair, a shocked look on his face as he stared at me. He was obviously getting the picture now that I was not going to be trampled on any more. Well, it was about time. 

He managed a glare even from his punctured state. "You… you… Dang you." He tossed back the rest of his glass of alcohol. My nose automatically categorized the type. Brandy, and expensive, too. 

I reined in my temper. Barely. The temptation to swat the glass out of his hand was great, but I knew that getting physical wouldn't help the situation at all, no matter how satisfying it would be. I crossed my arms and waited for my father to calm down a little so that we could finish this farce of a conversation. By now all I really wanted to do was get away and punch something. Preferably something that would 'try' to fight back. See why losing your temper is dangerous? 

My father didn't seem to realize that pertinent fact. "You're no son of mine!" He threw the heavy, ornate shot glass straight at my face. 

My right hand moved without conscious thought, plucking it out of the air about a half of an inch in front of my nose. I flipped it around in my hand and set it gently on the desk again. "Fine." My voice was so cold, even I was amazed at how emotionless it sounded. "That's your choice." I turned and headed for the door. As I reached it I turned and stared at my father for a long minute. He wasn't able to meet my gaze. I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the purchase that I had made in the store earlier. "If you ever change your mind, it's speed dial one." I tossed the cell phone in his general direction and walked out of the study, closing the door firmly behind me.

I passed Mrs. Mac in the hall, but I didn't stop to say anything. I reached the door and had to jump back as it swung open right as I reached for the knob. A tall, pregnant woman backed into the house, doing her best to juggle an armload of packages. A small box on the top began to teeter and I stepped forward and grabbed it before it fell. "Oh, thanks, Mrs. M… Oh!" I had to make a rather spectacular dive to catch the rest of the packages before they hit the floor. "Timothy!?!"

"Yeah." I stacked the packages neatly on a small table that was right inside the door. "Hello, Dana."

She was staring at me. "Tim? What on earth? What… Did you talk to Ja…" She was cut off by a crash and the sound of muffled swearing from the study. I winced. She gave me a sympathetic look. "I guess you did, huh?"

"Yes. I hope that I haven't caused any problems for you." 

Dana rolled her eyes. "He'll be a bear for a while, but I'm used to it. How are you, Tim? Is everything ok with you?"

I was touched that she cared enough to ask. I'd never actually gotten that close to her, mostly because I hadn't been with her much. She was a nice person, though and although I could never really picture her as my mom, I had always had the feeling that I could trust her if I had too. I ran a hand through my hair. "This particular day has been pretty bad, but on the whole I'm doing ok. Thank you for asking."

"I was worried about you, Tim. Nobody should have to be sent away from home like you were. I tried to tell him that, " she motioned towards the study in frustration, "but he wouldn't listen."

I gave a humorless laugh. "Yes, he's very good at that."

Dana stepped closer to me and placed a hand on my arm. "Tim, I know he's hard to deal with, and I wouldn't really blame you if you totally wrote him off, but please be patient. Maybe if you give him a little time… I presume that you're planning on staying in town and that's what set him off?"

"I told him that, yes. I'm not really sure what I'm going to be doing yet." I wondered if she knew about the mask issue. I really didn't know if Dad would have told her or not.

Dana smiled at me. "Well, whatever your plans are, good luck. I hope things work out for you."

I handed her the other cell phone that I'd bought. "I was planning on getting this to you somehow. I gave one to him," I jerked my head backwards at the still grumbling noise made by my father, "but at this rate it may not survive the afternoon. I'm speed dial one." It had been relatively easy to program the phones to reveal the name and not the number, and I knew enough about it to make sure that there was no way that anyone could trace the number without calling it, which would alert me immediately.

Dana looked pleased. "Thanks, Tim. I appreciate this. Is it ok if I call you when the baby's born?"

I managed a genuine smile at that. "Please do. And congratulations, by the way. About a month, isn't it?" 

"Closer to two, actually." 

"Well, I'd better get out of here. Goodbye, Dana." I headed for the door.

"Goodbye." I was already outside when the door opened again, and Dana stuck her head out. "Timothy Drake, you keep your head down, ok? Be careful." I waved to her as I pulled out of the driveway. That last comment of hers made me think that she probably did know about my vigilante past. It was actually kind of nice to have someone tell me to be careful. My father certainly hadn't.

Dad. I tried my best to keep my anger under control as I thought about the way that he had treated me now and in the past. Even now his words came back to me. 'You are not my son.' That hurt, deep down inside, where I knew I still had had the hope that he'd welcome me back with open arms, accepting who I was and what I chose to do with my life. But no, he was so positive that his was the only way and that I walked a different road out of pure spite, that he wasn't even able to consider a compromise situation. 

I continued to stew over the matter all the way back to the back cave entrance and by the time I had parked the bike and walked into the inner cave, I was shaking with anger. No one was around and the deserted, half-lit cave suited my mood just fine. I wandered around in circles for a couple of minutes, trying, and failing, to calm myself down. 

I found my self back in the area where I had had the friendly matches with Dick and Cass last night. The place was very well set up, and I walked over to one of the several hanging punching bags. I let a punch start from the back of my heels and sent one to the center of the bag. Since it was attached to the floor by a chain, it hardly even moved. The thump that echoed in the room was music to my ears. I took out my anger on that bag, ripping punches and kicks into the stiff leather of the bag. 

I must have been at it at least a half of an hour when I heard Dick's voice behind me. "I think it's dead now."

I whirled, finding myself moving into a defensive stand automatically. Dang, I'd never even heard him come up. I also needed to work on my reactions. I'd been on my own for too long, forced to treat everyone who snuck up on me as a potential enemy. If I stayed in Gotham, I was going to get surprised by a lot of people, and unless I relearned a little trust in the other members in the clan, I was probably going to take someone's head off one of these days. Oh well, something to work on. 

I straightened and turned to look at the punching bag. It was lopsided, and the stuffing had been deformed by the force of my blows. I looked back at Dick, just now realizing that my hands were slightly swollen and throbbing from the punishment that I'd just given them. Stupid of me not to use gloves, but at the time, rationality hadn't been high on my list of constructive thoughts. "Yeah, I guess it is at that."

"Anything you want to talk about?" Dick stepped forward, a concerned look on his face. "You were really giving that bag a beating. Your meeting with Bruce that bad?"

"No, that was ok. I went to talk to my dad afterwards." I was in control of my anger now. It wasn't totally gone, but I knew from experience that I'd get over it. I was not going to allow myself to stew about this. I didn't need that kind of stress. I needed to plan a life of my own.

"Oh." Dick didn't say anything more, leaving it up to me if I wanted to share with him. I did want to talk to him soon and do a little catching up, but right now was really not a very good time. My anger and workout had drained all of my energy, and all I really wanted to do was grab something to eat and hit the sack. I told Dick as much and headed for the stairs. 

Dick called after me. "Hey, Tim."

I turned from the foot of the stairs. "Yeah?"

"Two things. First, Alfred said to tell you that if you tried to sneak out of the house and back to that motel that he would never feed you again." My eyes widened. Now there was an effective threat. Plus, I was too tired to sneak anywhere at the moment. "Second, I thought that you might want to know that your Young Justice friends should all be in the Titan's Tower area tomorrow." He shrugged. "In case you're interested."

A chance to see them again would be nice. It would also give me a little more time to actually make the decision about my future, since it would be an all day trip on my motorcycle. "Thanks, Dick, I think I'll head over there tomorrow."

"I'll let Bruce know so he doesn't send out a search party for you. Goodnight, bro."

"Goodnight." Bro. I think I could get used to that again. I headed upstairs. I'd want to leave early in the morning, so that I could get to New York by late morning.

End of Conversations 

TBC… in Exile 3: Reunion… coming soon.


End file.
